


Furiku Arashi

by Twyd



Series: Arashi Series [1]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bad Weather, Candles, Careers Have Issues, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Look At Your Life Look At Your Choices, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, PWP without Porn, Power Outage, Rain, Self-Esteem, Sex, Slash, Storms, Thunder and Lightning, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 05:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: Locked up with Izaya during a freak storm, Shizuo contemplates his life choices.





	Furiku Arashi

He’s going to lose his job. He can feel it. And he can’t even blame Izaya for it this time: his manager hates him, his customers hate him, he can’t mix a drink, can't keep his temper, can't make the same conversation over and over again without sounding like he doesn't care. His manager wants to talk to him tomorrow and, considering the way he frowns and sighs over everything Shizuo does, it can't be anything good. His rent is coming up. He has a hefty bill to pay after getting his phone wet in the rain. The universe is not on his side in terms of timing.

Then again, maybe it  _is_ good timing. Izaya had got wind of Shizuo's new workplace the other week, and had since been in twice to chatter and order something “complicated and time-consuming” just to piss him off, knowing Shizuo couldn’t do a thing about it. Shizuo had kept his temper both times, but he doesn't know how much longer he can keep it up. Was this his whole life? Spending his days pretending he's not pissed off in order to get paid, just to wake up and do it all over again?

And, speak of the devil, of course Izaya would waltz in now, in what is probably Shizuo's last night here. He doubts he'll get a good reference, but he wants to leave on good terms anyway.

It is still raining. It had been raining for almost a week. Izaya's hair and clothes are slick with it, and he makes little puddles on the floor that Shizuo will have to mop up later. Shizuo's manager goes over and offers to put Izaya's coat over the heater. He gives Shizuo a pointed look as he does so; Shizuo is supposed to do that. He hopes Izaya's coat burns to a crisp and that he catches pneumonia on the way home.

Oblivious, Izaya approaches the bar and hops on the stool nearest to Shizuo.

“Hi, Shizu-chan!”

Shizuo grunts.

Little puddles of rain drop from the flea’s hair to the bar. Why the hell had he been outside anyway? What was the point in being self-employed if you couldn’t do whatever you wanted?

“What do you want, Izaya?” he growls now, when the flea just sits there with a subtle threat of a smile. Shizuo keeps his voice low, and his manager in the corner of his eye, and they both know the power Izaya has over him here.

“Hm, I don’t know, where’s your menu?”

Shizuo shoves him the menu from where it's sat a few inches away, where Izaya knows it is, and goes to serve another customer.

When he’s back, Izaya has of course picked out something that takes about a minute to make, that Shizuo never fully understands whether he’s done it right once he has.

“Would you recommend this?” Izaya says, tapping it.

“Yes,” Shizuo says, knowing it would only encourage Izaya if he says no. He goes off to make it, barely paying attention to what he's doing. He’ll be out of here soon anyway. He’s not wasting another minute of his energy worrying about a fucking drink for someone’s who’s just testing him.

“Oh, my,” Izaya says, taking a sip. “That’s _strong_. Are you sure it’s supposed to be like that?”

“Yes," Shizuo says. It could have poison in it for all he cares. He goes to collect a table's abandoned glasses and starts cleaning them.

After he’s paid, Izaya tries to goad him a few more times, and seems disappointed when Shizuo doesn’t bite.

“What’s wrong, Shizu-chan?” he complains. “Don’t you want to kill me anymore?”

“I’m working, flea."

“You’re always working, it’s never stopped you before.”

Shizuo holds his tongue as his manager strolls past. Izaya watches him pass, even though Shizuo hadn’t looked at him once. 

“Is it him?”

Shizuo says nothing. His shoulders loosen however as he sees his manager is putting on his coat. Probably leaving early to miss the worst of the rain. He nods to Shizuo from the door, and goes out into the night.

Shizuo feels a little better. Now he only has to put up with Izaya and the other customers for another hour, and then he is free. Less, even, if they decide to ship out before the rain picks up. A lot of them are gathering their coats now.

“I know that guy from somewhere,” Izaya says now, drawing Shizuo's attention back. “Didn’t care for him.”

“Why not?” Shizuo says, intrigued despite himself.

“Just didn’t.” He shrugs. “He doesn’t remember me, anyway.”

Shizuo doesn’t pursue it. Being so deliberately vague, it probably isn’t even true.

He keeps a wide berth of Izaya for the rest of the night, taking his time cleaning up after customers as they leave. Izaya gives up and plays on his phone, glancing out of the window at intervals as if to check on the rain.

“It’s only going to get worse,” Shizuo tells him.

“Calm down, Shizuo, I’ll go when everyone else does.”

He orders another drink, a slightly less complicated cocktail. Shizuo gets it wrong even so.

Izaya makes a face - which is fair as Shizuo knows for a fact this is one that is beyond him - but to his surprise, Izaya doesn’t send it back and insist he give him a new one. He is still shivers now and then from the rain, and perhaps just needs anything alcoholic to throw down himself.

He is the last one at the bar when all the other customers have made their way out. Three minutes to go. Shizuo pretends to be busy wiping down the bar, waiting for him to leave.

“A storm’s coming,” Izaya tells him, reading off his phone.

“I know.” Shizuo gestures for him to move his elbows.

Thunder cracks above them, making him wince. It sounds as if the roof will cave in.

He looks at the clock a little desperately, and sighs with relief.

“Get out of here will you, flea? We’re closed now.”

Izaya looks at him as if he is exceptionally slow.

“We can’t go out in that, Shizuo. Have you not seen the news? They’re telling everyone to stay indoors."

“What? That’s not true.”

He takes Izaya’s offered phone, although he is already remembers, the storm is not really hitting until about 3am. But his chest falls as he sees pictures of the flooded roads, the damaged cars and buildings, the high alert warnings. Fuck.

“Why do you think everyone scuttled off all at once before?” Izaya says, retrieving his phone.

Shizuo glares at him.

“Then why didn’t _you_ go then?”

“I live too far away,” he says lazily. “Never would have made it anyway.”

Shizuo can’t believe it. Just his fucking luck.

“Well - whatever, you can’t stay here. You can fucking drown out there for all I care.”

“Shizuo,” Izaya puts his hands up and steps out of reach, when Shizuo tries to drag him out. “If you throw me out and anything happens to me out there, I can sue you blind.”

“No, you can’t,” he says, but he has no idea if this is true. “We’re closed.”

“Exactly. The company’s covered, so when I press charges, they’ll put it all on you.”

Shizuo feels a little stab of alarm, even though he’s pretty sure Izaya is just winding him up.

“It’s not even that bad out there- “ he starts, when thunder claps over them again, cutting off his words.

Izaya raises his eyebrows, waiting for it to die down before he can speak.

“Try it,” he offers. “Try and go out there. If you think it’s fine, I’ll leave.”

Shizuo tries. He hasn’t even opened the door fully, when something that could be a trashcan flies past and nearly knocks him out. He slams the door again and leans against it.

“You should probably tie it down or something,” Izaya calls, playing on his phone again. He sounds bored.

Shizuo glares at him.

“You planned this.”

“I don’t have control of the weather, Shizu-chan,” he says without looking up. “I’m not that awesome.”

“You came here on purpose when you knew a fucking storm was coming.”

“And what if I hadn’t? You would have wandered out there and probably got a lampost to the head, because you’re apparently too up yourself to check the news. You should be thanking me.”

The lights sizzle over them as they bicker, and flicker once, twice, before going out completely.

“Shit,” Shizuo says.

“Have you got any candles?” Izaya’s voice comes from the pitch black. “There must be some round the back. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before.”

“I don’t know,” Shizuo says, fumbling for his lighter. By the time he finds it, Izaya produces a mini torch that is surprisingly powerful.

“You can’t go back there,” Shizuo says, as the informant hops over the bar.

“Why?” he says. “The CCTV won’t be working.”

He has a point. He also seems to know what he’s doing, so Shizuo lets him get on with it.

Izaya retrieves empty bottles from the recycling bin and drops a lit candle into each of them, setting them up on a table near the bar, giving the room a reasonable glow of light.

“Away from the windows,” he says. “Don’t you remember anything they told us in school?” Then he backtracks. “No, wait, that might have been with Shinra.”

Shizuo doesn’t say anything. He has a vague memory of ducking under his desk when he was very small, hands clamped over his ears, waiting for the teacher to say it was OK to come out. Otherwise, he's fairly novice when it comes to freak storms.

Izaya wanders back to the bar, trailing his fingers along the taps.

“Can I have another drink?”

“No."

“I’ll pay for it.”

“I’m not making you any more fucking drinks.”

“ _I’ll_ make it. Or I’ll just buy some sake. How much is that one?”

He shines his torch on the prices. He eventually leaves a bill next to the till and brings a bottle back to the table with two glasses.

“What’s wrong, Shizu-chan?” he says again, pouring them a drink each. “We’ve been locked up in here for almost half an hour and you haven’t even tried to brain me with a chair.”

“I’m tired,” he says.

Izaya just looks at him over the candlelight and doesn't say anything, like he's spoilt for choice with jokes he could make, and slides Shizuo's glass to him.

The ceiling rattles with the rain, making conversation impossible. Thunder crashes at intervals, the accompanying lightning striking the room in electric blue. A draught whistles from somewhere, and Izaya goes off round the back again and comes back with some freshly laundered table cloths as a makeshift blanket.

“Izaya,” Shizuo says, exasperated, although he doesn't really care.

“What?” Izaya says, oblivious. His pitch is a little off, and Shizuo wonders if he is starting to feel his drink. “Your employer needs better freak-storm facilities. You need to get on him about that.”

Shizuo drinks more sake. Allows Izaya to pour him both more. It occurs to him, somewhere beneath his nerves over the job, that Izaya is being unusually...unprovoking, for him. Maybe out of cold and misery over the storm. Shizuo doesn’t mention it, in fear of bringing Izaya's attention to it and making it worse. It could also of course be the drink.

Izaya is lounging back now with his feet up on an opposite chair, as if he’s relaxing at home. The rain has dulled to a harsh patter, the thunder rumbling in the distance instead of right over their heads.

Shizuo blinks then as something splashes on his hair. 

“Shit.”

“What?” Izaya says.

Shizuo picks up his mini-torch and shines it at the ceiling to show him. He moves his chair out of the way, closer to the flea.

Izaya tuts. “What poor facilities."

Shizuo doesn't say anything. He's starting to care less about his job with every sip of sake. Yes, he'll lose it, yes, it'll be another black mark to his name and the same old shit all over again, but at least he's getting out of here. Maybe he can find somewhere a little quieter, somewhere less stressful. A manager who'll lay off him. Even if he's kept on, why should he want to stay here, anyway? Yes, he'll be fine. At least this small part of his life will be over.

“This is so nice,” Izaya says now.

Shizuo frowns at him. But, sitting there in the candlelight with the rain on the windows, the quiet of night, he realises it almost rings true. It isn’t bad.

He reaches for the bottle, misses, reaches again and is surprised to find how light it is. Drinking in the half dark, it is hard to tell how much he and Izaya had had. He pours it out anyway.

“We could get another,” Izaya suggests.

“No,” he says, thinking he wants to leave on good terms, or at least with as little shit as possible, with his manager. Even if they’re leaving cash for the sake, Shizuo’s sure the asshole will make hell for him.

“He should have warned you about the storm before he left,” Izaya says unexpectedly.

Shizuo looks at him, startled.

“He probably thought I knew. _You_ didn’t say anything. No-one else did.”

Izaya shrugs, picking up the bottle, letting it back down when he remembers it’s dry.

“I don’t know how you do it, anyway,” he yawns. “Bar-tending. It'd drive me crazy.”

Shizuo shifts uncomfortably, unsure if Izaya is mocking him.

“It’s not like I’m good at it.”

“Well, you’re still here.”

Shizuo says nothing, but he doesn’t have to: Izaya sees the look on his face.

“Oh. What happened? I haven’t done anything.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Shizuo growls.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t be a bartender,” he says. “It must get so boring. All that crap to deal with. Some people are good at with putting up with that and some people just aren't. I wouldn’t last a day.”

Shizuo finds this strangely comforting. He's not useless, he's just...a useless bartender. It isn't right for him. Maybe he just needs to try something else.

Izaya gets up for some water, and flops on the chair closer to Shizuo when he gets back. Shizuo takes no notice. He can tell by the informant’s movements that he is slightly further gone than he is, like he's having to concentrate to keep his balance.

He closes his eyes, and the room flickers in pleasant shades of red behind his eyelids. Izaya was right. It _is_ nice. It’ll be the nicest memory he has of this place.

It takes his brain a moment to realise what’s happening when he feels something else; a mouth against his own, rain-wet hair brushing his forehead, arms at either side of his, the warmth of another body.

“Izaya.”

Izaya just makes a little noise of need and doesn’t move away.

“Izaya.” Shizuo puts a hand against his chest, pressing their foreheads together as he pulls his jaw back. “You’re drunk.”

“So?”

This is not a good response, but it keeps echoing in his head as Izaya keeps kissing him, as he starts undoing Shizuo's shirt, and Shizuo can’t come up with an answer for it.

* * *

 

By 3am, the rain is no better and no worse. Shizuo had only been vaguely aware of it, but now, lying on the floor with Izaya in a heap of table cloths and limbs, he tries to figure it out. The thunder had stopped, he has no idea when, the lightning long gone, leaving only the faint glow of candles on their skin. The wind whistles through somewhere round the back. He has a dull ache for a cigarette that he tries to ignore.

Izaya is curled into him still, rain-smelling and warm, and breathing like he’s sleeping. He had clung to Shizuo with an intensity Shizuo hadn't expected of him, hadn't laughed or teased him once, and Shizuo wonders if there had been more to what he'd done than drink and boredom. It might be worth thinking about once he's taken care of all his other problems. 

Shizuo lets his eyes drift, quite wanting to sleep as well, knowing he can't. It would be better to drown outside than to be found like this by his manager. 

“Izaya,” he says, and his voice sounds wrong in the quiet candlelight.

Izaya stirs a little but he doesn’t lift his head.

“The rain’s going off. We have to go.”

Izaya whines a little bit but still doesn’t move. Shizuo gives him five minutes before he gets up himself, leaving the informant wrapped in table cloths while he takes their bottle and glasses away. The candles have almost burned down in their bottles. He starts taking those too. The lights are still not back on, but that's not his problem.

He nudges Izaya gently with his foot.

“I’m leaving you if you’re not coming,” he warns. “They’ll think you’re some nutjob who broke in.”

Izaya mumbles something and sits up, starts pulling on his clothes.

Shizuo takes the ruined tablecloths off him and stuffs them far, far into the bottom of the trash. He experiences a little thrill at what he's getting away with. A final  _fuck you_ to his manager. He doesn't get to do those very often. Hell, he almost wishes they'd done it on the bar and drank all the sake Izaya wanted. 

Izaya himself is up and glugging water now, his coat draped over his shoulders.

Shizuo waits for him, wondering how long it will take for it to sink in and feel weird. He feels light and uncaring still.

Pushing the informant out in front of him, he ducks in the rain to lock the door. 

“It’s still raining,” Izaya complains, as if this hadn't been part of the plan. 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be raining for a fucking while.” He straightens and gives Izaya a little push. “Move.”

They make it about five blocks before the sky opens. Thunder cracks around them as if to bring the buildings down, and Shizuo curses under the noise and the hail, berating himself for not getting out of there earlier. 

Behind him, Izaya falls back into a doorway. Shizuo squints into the night, wondering whether to make a run for it, but he can’t even see to the end of the street. He ducks after Izaya.

Izaya is leaning back into a corner, looking up at him in the tight space, and Shizuo kisses him without even reasoning with it in his head. It feels better to be less drunk, to be upright and know what he’s doing.

Izaya’s skin had been soft in the bar, but out here they are so wet he can feel nothing but how cold he is. Shizuo kisses him anyway, holding him there long after the rain ebbs away again.

Izaya sighs something over the noise that might be his name. He still seems a little out of it, either with drink or lack of sleep. Shizuo doesn't know why he's any different. He feels strangely energised and he doesn’t know why. 

“Izaya,” he says, and it is a surprise to hear himself clearly. The storm has almost completely cleared. They leave the doorway.

When Izaya turns off for Shinjuku, with zombie-like habit, Shizuo gets him by the back of his coat and pulls him back.

Izaya falls against him, but stiffens his legs to not walk any further.

“Now?” he says, undoubtedly thinking of his own bed and bath and what Shizuo’s mood might be like in the morning.

“Yes.”

Shizuo kisses him again, and that’s all it takes. He lets Shizuo pull him along into the first light of the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks!


End file.
